


Wilted Flowers

by ElasticElla



Series: femslash100 drabbles ('14-'15) [6]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/F, Implied/Referenced Incest, Internalized Misogyny, minor Cersei Lannister/Sansa Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-18
Updated: 2014-12-18
Packaged: 2018-03-02 02:38:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2796587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElasticElla/pseuds/ElasticElla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa isn't like her mother much, far too soft and too pretty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wilted Flowers

**Author's Note:**

> for day 18 of femslash yuletide: family photo (...which I made a portrait between fast friends) and drabbletag5: catelyn/cersei, wildflowers

The girl before her is naive and scared, a pretty pale little doll. There is no more blood in her cheeks, and not nearly enough wine left in her glass to bring it back. She's far too innocent for her age, for her standings. 

When Catelyn was her age, by the seven even younger, she knew how easily swords and fingers and words could cut. She knew what attraction was: knew how to deny the little weasel while claiming innocence and waiting on a suitable match, knew how to climb into Cersei's sheets and delve between her legs. Catelyn always had an even tongue in and out of bed. 

And yet, here is her daughter- a fresh lamb awaiting slaughter. Cersei kept waiting for the steel to appear, for something to finally snap in the girl. No one molded to their surroundings so easily, there was only so much flexibility within a soul. She must have weak spots, and Cersei wants to find them, wants to exploit them. 

In her mind's eye, she can see the portrait of them. Of Catelyn and herself, and the bunch of out-of-place wildflowers. It tastes bittersweet, and she pretends that maybe Sansa would too.

~~~

"One holiday portrait mi'lady, and then we can go off into the wilderness." Catelyn's tone is the closest to begging she's ever heard, a tremor over the _mi'lady_ and Cersei can't help the little spark of delight that crawls across her chest. Once upon a time only Jaime could do that, but Catelyn Tully does many things she hadn't anticipated.

She hadn't been like the women back home, nor like any other she'd met. She's graceful and strong and feminine all at once, Cersei told her once she should have been a man- both of them really, they were far too much for this. But Catelyn only sighed, looking more teacher than new friend, as though she'd missed a lineage. 

"It won't be a proper portrait without flowers." Cersei teases, gesturing to the barren and cold outside, "I don't think I could stand for that as a lady of the Rock." 

Catelyn walks to the dining room, holiday banquet set, and grabs a bouquet of wild flowers. They're blue and purple, matching their gowns, and for a moment, Cersei suspects that it was planned. But in the next, Catelyn has her hand and they're seated, the painter fussing over them.


End file.
